


Time Well Spent

by donutsweeper



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-25
Updated: 2011-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-17 06:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock was uncomfortable, but wasn't sure what he should do about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Well Spent

Sherlock was decidedly uncomfortable. The blood supply to his legs had definitely been compromised and the muscles in his neck would no doubt begin to protest their odd angle any minute now. The dilemma was how to move without overly disturbing John.

John, who had been discharged from the hospital only that afternoon.

John, who was still far too pale beneath the bandages.

John, who had finally, _finally_ fallen asleep an hour ago, his head pillowed on Sherlock's lap.

All Sherlock had to do was shift up a bit and then slip out from under John. Maybe if he moved quickly enough he could...

No, that wouldn't work. He'd have to lift John too high; the man was already curled on his side; the additional pressure of having his head raised would put stress on his wrapped ribs. The resulting pain would definitely wake him.

Maybe he could encourage John to curl up further, then all he'd have to do was scoot John back a bit and...

No, no, that wouldn't work either, keeping John's ankle elevated was necessary and too radical a change in position might affect its somewhat precarious perch on the rolled up blanket.

He let out a frustrated sigh. He'd give John another hour's sleep. Maybe two. Just until sunrise anyway. It was easier that way. Besides, Mrs. Hudson had said she'd be checking on them in the morning and most likely that meant she'd be bringing up some breakfast, or at least some tea. Tea would be nice.

Until then...

Sherlock slipped John's phone out of his pocket. Maybe it was time to see what those birds were so angry about.


End file.
